


The old familiar sting

by Jenchantress_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Explicit Language, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 14:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenchantress_stories/pseuds/Jenchantress_stories
Summary: “You disgusting freak, you are far more messed up than I could ever be!”Dean shouts.Sam lifts his head, blood dripping from his chin.“Are you scared of your little brother?”He sticks a finger into the fresh wound and licks the succulent blood from his digit. Dean groans as Sam repeats this movement. His finger enters his brothers body deeper and deeper, pushing further into it.“You are so screwed. You are less human then I am.”Dean continues.---Written for the Dark|SPN challenge on tumblr.





	The old familiar sting

It is nearly painful for the eye, that bright, crisp white light – it appears so innocent even though it's not. Sam puts the glass bottle with the shining light into his duffel. With utmost care he wrapped the fragile bottle in a soft towel to protect it from breaking. In one of the seemingly endless number of books in the library, he found a spell to trap his very own soul. He found it a while ago and he knew it come in handy one day. Today is that day.

Extracting his very own soul felt excruciating, but the moment his soul left his body, he immediately felt lighter and far more confident. All the fear and all the aching emotions are gone. It “feels” amazing, not to feel anything.

But the one big reason for taking on this whole procedure was to stop Dean. Sam understood that only without his emotions for his big brother, he can stop the demon that he became. Stop him from hurting and killing people for fun. Watching Dean massacre all kind of innocent people just for his own entertainment was enough. The mindless blood shedding has to end. Deep down he knew Dean would want him to stop him, but Sam needed time to come to the same conclusion. He needed time to finally admit that this is the only way.

In one of the seemingly endless number of books, he found a spell for ending seemingly immortal monsters. And without his soul, he can be ruthless enough to use it.

\---

_“Did you lose your soul again?”_ Dean remarks as he watches Sam entering the run down, empty bar. Unlike his human self, Dean can now sense differences like that.

The entire interior is made of wood and is in a quite bad shape. There are cracks and broken furniture everywhere. It probably had its best days somewhat 30 years ago. He puts his duffel on a table near the door and slowly walks up to Dean, knowing that this won't be an easy fight. Compared to other demons, Dean's is quite a strong one.

_“No whiny words this time? No 'I'm your brother, I'm here to save you'.”_ Dean mocks Sam's last attempt to cure him. It didn't get him anywhere.  
_“I'll leave the last words to you.”_ He answers dryly.  
“You can't kill me.”  
“I know, but I will stop you.”

Sam is done with talking and bargaining. He tried again and again. He tried to reason with him, plead him to come back. For weeks, he has been reading every book in the bunker to find a solution. Here it is. Now he's on a mission and wants to finish it as quickly as possible. Sam immediately sets the first punch in Dean's face, but he is unimpressed. He moves his jaw a bit to set it back in place, before he punches Sam back and sends his body flying across the room, crashing into wall behind him. Sam groans, rubbing the back of his head.

_“Apparently your plan sucks.”_ Dean snarks. He walks over to Sam. He knows his own powers by now and that his little brother can't do shit against him. Dean is as confident as ever, but as soon as he's close enough, Sam kicks his brother's knee. His bones audibly crunch, sending him down to the ground cursing.

He slams himself against him and pins Dean down, punching his face several times. But no matter how hard his fist knocks against Dean's head, it seems like he can't knock him out. There's blood coming from his lips and nose, but other than that, it has no effect. Dean grabs Sam's wrist and twists it until Sam cries out. He throws his brother off of him and takes the chance to get up again, as does Sam.

He grabs Sam's collar and pushes him against the wall. Dean's face comes close to Sam's. _“You're such a pain in the ass. I think I can't let you walk away a third time.”_ He tries to push Dean away, but he's too strong. He can't break the hold.

But then, a familiar scent hits Sam. A metallic smell with a rotten twist. Even though it's been years, he never forgot. He sees the blood dripping from his brother's split open lower lip. This is not ordinary blood anymore. In the veins of his demonic brother runs bittersweet demon blood.

There's an unimaginable craving overcoming Sam. He bites into Dean's lip, sucking the blood from the little scratch. Dean tries desperately to push him off, but Sam bites on to his lips. He yells incomprehensibly as Sam pushes his teeth deeper into the skin, ripping it further open. He uses his tongue do lick the thick blood out of his brother's lips.

A solid punch to the liver makes Sam cry out, leaving a bloody mess in Dean's face. He takes a few steps back but Sam jumps at him, throwing them both to the ground, Sam pummeling Dean. The need for this bittersweet stuff sends him into a rage. He doesn't hesitate when he bites into Dean's throat. His teeth breaking the skin, hitting his aorta, sucking the streaming blood directly from his vein. He forgot how much he missed it. The strength in his body and the feeling of invincibility. It tastes so disgusting and delicious at the same time.

_“YOU SICK BASTARD!”_ Dean yells. He tries another punch, but Sam doesn't even flinch. The demon blood already empowering his little brother. Dean hears his brother suck and lick his throat, feeling his brothers tongue entering the wound, penetrating it in a steady rhythm. The tip of his tongue working its way deeper into his throat. Sam's moaning, audibly enjoying this, feeling the heat rushing through his body.

_“You disgusting freak, you are far more messed up than I could ever be!”_ Dean yells. Sam lifts his head, blood dripping from his chin. _“Are you scared of your little brother?”_ He sticks a finger into the fresh wound and licks the succulent blood from his digit. Dean groans as Sam repeats this movement. His finger enters his brothers body deeper, winding its way further into his throat. _“You are so fucked up. You are less human then I am.”_ Dean keeps cursing Sam.  
  
Sam smiles an inhuman smile. The whole lower part of his face is covered in blood, his eyes are cold and mad. _“You are right. I'm not human right now.”_ Sam's voice is monotone and robotic like there's not a trace of humanity left in him.

Sam lifts his right hand, puts it on Dean's face and uses his index finger and ring finger to push his brother's eyes in. He screams on the top of his lungs and tries desperately to grab Sam, but he's blinded. White and demonic black, gooey stuff runs down his face, mixing with blood from his eyelids as he pulls his fingers out.

_“But you messed me up in the first place.”_ Sam continues.  
Dean keeps screaming, carefully touching the area where his eyes used to be.

_“I should have stayed dead. Look where I got you. Look where you got US!”_ Sam's voice becomes kind of reproachful. Something is twisting in his mind. He might have no emotions right now, but he remembers. It's all there. He remembers the pain and the guilt. How Dean selfishly dragged him away from Stanford back into the hunting life and he remembers every single time Dean abandoned him.

_“You sick, sick son of a bitch!”_ Dean starts yelling again. Sam looks at his hand, covered in black and white goo mixed with blood. He is smiling. This whole situation feels so satisfying. Being soulless and pumped up on demon blood is a fucking good feeling.

But he has to go back to business. This demon has to die. For the fun part, he can catch himself some other demons later on.

Sam gets up and washes his hand at the sink behind the bar. The ingredients might not work if they are tainted by his dirty hands. Then he walks over to his duffel, taking everything out he needs: three prepped iron bars, consecrated blood and a piece of paper with the spell.

Dean can't see anymore, but he sits up, blindly touching around until he finds a chair. He throws it in Sam direction. He can't see it but he misses Sam just an inch, hitting the duffel bag instead.

He hears the sound of glass breaking.

_“Fuck.”_ Sam hisses as he watches the light rise, floating towards him. This is not good. He knows he'll freak out the moment his soul is back in place, that he can't handle this. _“No, no, no no no … NO!”_ but it's too late. With a burning pain, his soul is settling down in his chest again.

Sam's world tumbles down. There's his brother's blood sticking on his chin and shirt, thick dark and red. There's the taste of demon blood on his tongue and lips, its disgusting smell. He feels sick and feverish, the demon blood is rushing through his own veins. His emotions are crushing in, his heart breaking into pieces as he looks at Dean.

He's shivering as he hears Dean laughing: _“This is perfect, you are sooo screwed now!”_ Sam's stomach turns. Dean's ripped lips, the gaping wound on his throat, where the blood is still running down, his missing eyes...

Sam throws up, he can't help it. The little content of his stomach splashing on the floor. He knows he has to proceed and finish the ritual, but he feels paralysed and dizzy. What has he done? He's is about to panic, to scream, to break down, but before he can think too much about it, Sam grabs the first iron bar and slams Dean down to the ground. With one swift move he rams the bar into Dean's right shoulder.

_“What the hell is this shit!”_ The pain feels like acid for Dean. He is now pinned on the wooden floor. Sam quickly takes the other bar. He finds himself running on automatic.

Unable to talk, shivering, tears streaming down his face. He's a mess and he just keeps is together. The next bar is pushed through Dean's other shoulder, again making him scream in agony, cursing his brother. He picks up a little bottle with consecrated blood and the piece of paper.

It has to work the first time. He can't do this again.

For the ritual, he has to draw two symbols on Dean with the blood. Again, he places himself on Dean's hips, trying to keep him under control. He carefully dips his finger into the blood, then puts the glass down. His left hand fists Dean's hair, preventing him from shaking his head. His right hand is trembling badly, he is hardly able to control it. He paints the first sign on Dean's forehead, trying to avoid looking into the dark, bloody holes where his eyes used to be.

_“I really hope for you this works. If not, you'll find yourself in hell again, Sammy.”_ Dean keeps shouting and cursing. Sam ignores his brother's threats. It's not his brother anymore, he tells himself over and over again.

The second symbol has to be placed on Dean's chest. With both hands, he rips Dean's shirt open. There's his anti-possession tattoo. It's still there. Sam stops for a moment. He remembers the awkward night they got them at some back street tattooist. He didn't ask them any questions but the way he looked at them, like they were freaks. How Dean constantly pat Sam's sore chest the next day just to annoy him.

And how he had to get it redone after Gadreel's possession...

After finishing the final symbol, he immediately reads out the Enochian spell. He can't afford to stop for a second. He knew doubt will come if he stops focusing on what he's doing. The spell's not long, a few lines only. His voice is trembling like the rest of his body. He's struggling with bringing his own voice up, sending each syllable audibly over his lips.

_“Hey Sammy, if this really works: congratulations.”_ For a moment, Dean's voice is soft, like it used to be. A trace of humanity! Sam thinks, his heart flinging itself on this tiny sign of hope.

But then the last word has been already spoken. Dean screams again as much as his sore voice lets him. A twisted, dark glowing light twisting its way out of his body. If the spell is right, his soul ends up directly in the Empty. According to the lore, nothing comes back from the Empty.

Dean's body goes limb. So does Sam, breaking down right next to him, sobbing and in pain, holding onto his brother's arm. He feels the demon blood rushing through his veins and feels disgusting. Again he was unable to save Dean. Again he let him down. How did they end up here? Everything seems so wrong and out of place. Everything's so fucked up. So far away from the blaze of glory they were hoping to die in.

But deep down, Sam always knew they'll end up like that.


End file.
